Distortion
by Insomniac Panda-Chan
Summary: No man can escape from death, and least of all Light Yagami. However, the once-God is given a chance to redeem himself, but will he make things right this time around, or will he fall prey to the dark power of the Death Note once again?
1. The End

Hello, all. It has been quite a while since I last wrote anything, and I think that it's time I finally do. Lately, I've been quite absorbed with _Hetalia_, but as I refuse to write fanfiction for it until I can see the entire series dubbed, I thus decided to give _Death Note_ another try. Wish me luck!

***CHAPTER DEDICATION! This chapter is dedicated to Trying to Change Yesterday, for reasons she is already aware of.***

****Special thanks to Rein Mikazuki, Nani Hatake, icywarm, Emela, LawlietLight7, AquaBurst, Mossears of Riverclan, themswhitlock, SinSwoon, Sashocirrione, and Trying To Change Yesterday for reviewing the final chapter of _Remembrance_. Your reviews mean the world to me.****

*****A VERY special thanks to those who reviewed _To Be Loved_, my first attempt at a one-shot: Akai Nara, Secretsofthedarkness, xUzumakiYukix, MatthewMellz, Trying to Change Yesterday, and The Icing Addict. Another special thanks goes out to those who reviewed my other one-shot, _Ritualistic_ – Nani Hatake and CandyCayne. Thanks for reading!*****

Disclaimer: As always, I don't own _Death Note_ or anything associated with it. If I did, though... oh, the things you would see!

Warnings: Violence, language, L's real name – eventually - and yaoi (Light x L).

"Talking."

_Thinking._

* * *

><p><em>Pain<em>.

It is an entirely overwhelming sensation, and one of very few things that Light is aware of feeling at this point in time. Barely anything else registers in his hazy mind as he reclines upon the deserted staircase, blood pooling around his body as it spills from his various gunshot wounds.

The _blood_. Yes, he is quite aware of that, too. The sticky warmth seeps into his clothing, painting the fabric a rich crimson. This bothers him very little for some reason, and he briefly ponders that, but cannot seem to fathom why he does not care more than he actually does. He knows that he should, for the more blood he loses, the closer he comes to dying. But as before, he cannot bring himself to honestly be concerned.

_Perhaps_, the last remaining rational part of his mind muses, _it is better this way_. The rest of him agrees easily enough as the pain grows in intensity. It's almost unbearable by now, and Light suddenly comes to the startling realization that this is not just pain born from a gunshot wound or five.

This pain... it is the beginning of a heart-attack. So, Ryuk had to have written his name in the Death Note... Once more, that part of Light whispers that it is for the best, and in fact, it is far overdue. And as before, the rest of him agrees.

His chest flares white-hot with this new pain, the agony reaching to fill the entirety of his fallen body. Everything suddenly seems to ache, to _burn_ with the pain, but Light has not the ability to scream. His throat is clogged with thick blood, the taste sweet and metallic, and any sound he makes would be nothing more than a whimpering gurgle.

When the pain finally becomes too great, his vision begins to darken, and this is when Light finally concludes that he has _lost_. He is going to die here, in this dank warehouse, with the sharp edges of the stairs pressed uncomfortably into his back and his blood staining everything it touches with that brilliant, brilliant scarlet.

_This is not the way a God should die_, the lone, yet defiant, Kira-tainted part of him snarls in his mind. _But then_, the rational side of him responds, _You were never a God to begin with_.

And it's true. So very true. In his last few moments, Light sees with absolute clarity that his entire crusade to purge the world of evil was nothing more than a futile endeavor. He is not a God, and he never was. He is simply a man, one who allowed the power of a supernatural notebook to control his better judgment.

He knows that what he has done is wrong, and he is genuinely sorry for his actions. So very sorry...

And, for what it's worth, he then asks forgiveness.

He suddenly wants desperately to be forgiven for his mistakes in that moment, as he takes his final breath, and silently requests it of everyone he has wronged. From the criminals he has killed, guilty or not, to the eleven FBI agents, and to people he is more closely involved with; Lind L. Taylor, Raye Penber, Naomi Misora, Kyosuke Higuchi and the other member of the Yotsuba Group, Aiber and Weddy, Ukita and the rest of the Kira Task Force, his mother and his sister.

Misa Amane.

Teru Mikami.

Kiyomi Takada.

Rem.

His father.

Watari.

Mello, Matt, and Near.

Everyone else.

And especially _L_.

This last name, Light knows, is the one belonging to the person he craves forgiveness from most of all. L was never meant to die, he knows that now, and least of all by his hand. He could never imagine what the deceased detective must have been thinking as he stared up at Light in his dying moments, cradled within the brunet's unyielding arms, only to see the face of Kira staring back at him.

It must have been terrifying.

And Light has never been more remorseful in his entire life than he is in that single moment.

It is L whom Light's mind dwells on as his eyes begin to draw closed at long last, the brunet allowing his final exhale to leave his body. It is so strange, he ruminates. The pain has completely disappeared, replaced with a blissful numbness that he knows he does not deserve. The world as he knows it has begun fading into black, and mere seconds before his eyes close completely, a flash of sudden movement catches his dimming attention.

_There_. At the bottom of the stairs, watching him with a forlorn expression adorning his pallid face, is a man.

A man with onyx eyes and midnight hair, bedecked in a stark white sweatshirt and faded blue-jeans, no shoes present on his blanched feet.

Light's dulled amber eyes widen in sudden comprehension, and his parched lips part to speak, to ask forgiveness from this man, to _beg_ it from him. No sound escapes as only blood bubbles forth, spilling down the side of his face to further stain his already-reddened collar.

No. It is too late, he knows. His last breath has already been drawn and exhaled, his lungs no longer pulling in air. His heart has long since slowed to a stop, and he lives only for these last few moments. As the darkness creeps back into his vision, he does not take his eyes from the man, and the last thing Light Yagami sees before he falls into oblivion is the movement of those pale lips. The words are not spoken aloud, but Light understands the message just the same. His eyes fall closed for a final time, and a smile curls the corners of his mouth as he rejoices in the fleeting knowledge that, yes, he has been forgiven.

* * *

><p>AN: I'VE DONE IT! I've started a new story, and I'm actually excited about it! I don't know when the next chapter will be up, but I will definitely try my hardest to not take forever. And in addition, the next chapter will be MUCH longer than this one (yes, I know, short first chapter is SHORT). Oh, and if anyone wants to guess what L said to Light at the end, feel free. It will be revealed soon enough, but if a reviewer were to correctly guess it word-for-word (it's five words long), then I would dedicate a chapter to them. Good luck, and I'll see you soon!


	2. The Beginning

Such wonderful reviews! I feel so motivated! Thank you all!

***CHAPTER DEDICATION! This chapter is dedicated to L. Happy Birthday, dear! **

**I'm also dedicating it to the four people who guessed what L had said to Light at the end of the last chapter – AquaBurst, Stardancer Cloud, and IchigoChu on FF, and ~MyCookiex on DA. None of your guesses were **_**quite**_** right, but they were close. You'll find out what he said in this chapter, though, so enjoy!***

****Special thanks to Trying to Change Yesterday, XXxxNaRu-ChAnxxXX, Nani Hatake, MissMeha611, hudgens77, AquaBurst, Stardancer Cloud, and IchigoChu for reviewing the last chapter. In addition, I thank anyone who Commented for the last chapter on DA. Your reviews mean the absolute world to me.****

Disclaimer: As always, I don't own _Death Note_ or anything associated with it. If I did, though... oh, the things you would see!

Warnings: Violence, language, L's real name, and yaoi (Light x L).

"Talking."

_Thinking._

* * *

><p>The first thing Light noticed when he'd opened his eyes and had regained cognitive thought was that he was apparently lying on his back, as he had been when he'd died. The ground, though, appeared to be much less harsh – soft, yet firm, and somewhat spongy.<p>

The second thing he noticed was that he was seemingly surrounded by an all-encompassing blackness, not a single speck of light in sight. He briefly considered that he was in Hell – not the fire and brimstone that everyone imagined it to be – but quickly squashed that thought. A Death Note user could go to neither Heaven nor Hell, after all, so this had to be something else.

But... what? Mu? This didn't quite feel like the "nothingness" he'd thought it would be, so he partially ruled that possibility out as he silently perused the void. He could see nothing, and though it was entirely likely that he was isolated in a place where anything could come from anywhere to harm him, the darkness surrounding him did not exude the aura of "danger." In fact, he felt quite content to simply lie on this strange ground and stare into the shadows above him.

After a few moments of motionlessness, the brunet's eyes began to adjust to the deep blackness, and he swiftly realized that he was in a room of some sort. He could not quite make out the shadowy ceiling above him, but it seemed almost familiar to him somehow. It was as though... he had been in this very room before. But that was preposterous, wasn't it?

..._Wasn't_ it?

Light mulled this over for a few moments, trying to identify just where he'd seen this particular ceiling before. As he did so, quite contemplative, the odd thing he was currently lying on – which, he now deduced, had to be a bed - shifted just slightly to his left, commanding his attention.

And that was when it abruptly dawned on him that _he was not alone._

All thoughts of the ceiling vanished as his head swiveled to the left so quickly that he nearly gave himself whiplash. In the darkness, it was difficult to make anything out, but the brunet could sense that there was definitely something – or some_one – _beside him. But did this someone mean to cause him harm, or...

With apprehension making his movements slow and clumsy, Light levered himself up onto his left elbow – the appendage sinking slightly into the bed below him – and held a trembling right hand out to delicately prod the person beside him. He or she shifted once more under Light's touch, but made no other movements, and he decided that this mysterious person had to be sleeping. The brunet quickly drew his hand back, lest he accidentally wake them up and possibly anger them.

Laying back against the pillow behind him, the brunet's mind furiously whirred in his effort to find a course of action. Could he confront this person, ask them where he was and how he'd gotten there? That could work, but the person might be hostile, and having to fight was something he dearly wished to avoid. What else, then? Pretend to go back to sleep and hope they left him alone when they awoke? For some reason, Light immediately deemed this option to be just plain unwise, and thus discarded it. So, that left him with one possibility.

Escape.

Though the person beside him might have answers to the multitude of questions swimming around in his restless mind, it was too risky to assume that they would be willing to help for no reason. In addition, if he were to successfully make it out of this darkened room, he could hopefully figure out where exactly he was, and perhaps even find someone else who would be willing to answer his questions.

A solution decided, the brunet began to ease himself out of the bed, swinging his legs over the edge to touch the floor. His feet were bare, and the plush carpeting felt as well-known to him as the glance of the ceiling did. Telling himself that this was not the time to mull familiarities over, he resolutely stood and took a hesitant first step into the vast blackness of the room, only to be held back by a gentle weight against his left wrist.

For a moment, Light found himself panicking, his breathing becoming unsteady and labored. Had the mystery person woken up and clamped a hand around his wrist to stop him? But no, this didn't feel like a hand. The unknown item restraining him was not warm and soft, but was instead cold and hard.

_Metallic_.

Giving his hand an experimental – but gentle – tug to test the strength of the binding, a peculiar sound met his ears. A sound that he had heard countless times as a teenager, a sound that had haunted his dreams as an adult, a sound that he had longed to hear for years after it had finally been silenced.

It was a quiet tinkling, the sound of the links of a chain clinking together, and all at once Light found himself hastily reaching out to turn on the lamp that he instinctively knew would be on the bedside table to his right. The darkness was suddenly illuminated by a dim light, and the brunet's breath caught in his throat as the room around him was revealed to his disbelieving gaze.

It was the bedroom he had shared with L at the Kira Task Force Headquarters.

In his awe, Light staggered back to take a careful seat on the edge of the bed, his honeyed eyes flickering around the room in disbelief.

This... This was impossible! It looked as though nothing had ever changed in this room, though the brunet knew that this hadn't been so before. He'd gone to visit this room barely a few scant weeks before he'd died, and everything had been covered in dust at the time. But now... now, it appeared as though the dust had never been here, the familiar features of the room looking just as new as they had on the day he had first slept here.

Taking a curious glance down at himself, he also noted that the clothes he was currently donning were ones he hadn't seen – let alone _worn_ – since he had been a teenager.

After a moment, his gaze rose once more to regard the room. As he stared around himself, memories of a time long since gone flooding his mind, he took no notice that he'd begun trembling until the noise of the chain jingling floated up to reach his ears once more. The _chain_...

Light's eyes darted down to take in his left wrist, spying an all-too-familiar cuff encompassing the circumference of the skin just below his hand. His amber orbs, clouded over with conflicting emotions, followed the length of the chain, starting from where it left his cuff and ending where it met an identical cuff, this one hanging loosely from the pale right wrist of the man in bed next to him. With a final leap, his gaze rose to lock onto the face of his bed-mate.

After seeing the well-known bedroom in an unchanged state, after deducing that the clothes he now wore were ones he'd only ever worn as a captive Kira suspect, and after feeling the metal of the handcuff against his wrist... he really shouldn't have been surprised to find one L Lawliet beside him, the older man's bottomless onyx eyes closed in slumber. But, by God, Light _was_ surprised – shocked, stunned, bloody _thunderstruck – _to find L in this bed with him, so very close and very much _alive_.

How... How could this be? How could _any _of this be real? L was _dead_ – had died _years_ before Light himself had – and dead people don't just come back to _life_. Unless... could everything have been just a dream? L's death, Kira's ascension to power, and Light's own bloody demise?

_No_, he told himself. _That was insane. No dream could be that real._

But if not a dream, then... what was this? Was it just an elaborate illusion, designed to torture him? His own personal Hell, perhaps?

_No_, he again denied. _If any of that were true, if this indeed was some sort of punishment, then neither L nor (apparently) myself would be among the living._

So... this had to be real, somehow. L was actually sleeping beside him, just as alive as Light himself was. To confirm that theory – _not_ because he _wanted_ to, of course – the brunet stretched forth his untethered right hand to carefully press his fingertips against the porcelain skin of the slumbering detective's cheek. His questing fingers met warm, smooth, _living_ flesh, and his eyes widened slightly at the feeling. He hadn't been able to do this, to simply _touch _L since... since...

...Since the day Light had held him in his arms, sneering down at the dying detective through Kira's crimson eyes.

Abruptly, the brunet jerked his arm back as though burned. What right did he have to touch this pure, pure man after what he'd done to him? Doing so would likely taint that precious innocence a second time, and Light would not allow himself to do so again.

As he resolutely lowered his right hand to rest once more upon the bed, something about the appendage caught his gaze. Raising the hand once more – this time, to hang before his own face – the brunet's sharp honeyed eyes immediately spotted what had snared his attention.

There, in the center of his palm, was a round spot of scar tissue – the remnants of what had once been a bullet hole. Turning his hand over, the same circle of scar tissue could be seen just below the backs of his knuckles, a tell-tale reminder of where the bullet had gone straight through. After little deliberation, the brunet deduced that he did not need to see the other places he'd been shot – primarily, it had been his chest – to know that he would find similar marks upon the spots where bullet holes had once been.

This, then, was indisputable proof that the events of the past – or was it the future? - had actually transpired, and that none of it had been a dream. Somehow, Light had ended up in a distorted reality, in which neither L nor himself had died, though he still bore the marks of having been shot; he was back in his teenage body, and therefore, once more a Kira suspect; he had retained a vast knowledge of events that had yet to occur; and while he possessed awareness of both the Death Note and his identity as Kira, the evil spirit that had once been harbored within his body was now blissfully absent.

It was as though... he was being given a second chance – a chance to make things right, to live a life where he did not exist as Kira but as simply Light Yagami, to do good instead of evil.

L's words returned to him at the moment, words mouthed to him as Light lay dying on that forsaken staircase, allowing the life to leave his body.

_Everyone deserves a second chance. _

Could this have been what L had meant? Was someone up there actually giving him a chance to redeem himself? It seemed too good to be true, and as hot tears pricked the corners of his eyes in silent thankfulness, Light's attention was sharply drawn once more by the tinkling sound of the handcuff chain.

His amber gaze swiftly shifted to rest on the sleeping detective, only to be taken aback as his eyes met with a pair of deep onyx orbs staring owlishly back at him. His heart skipped a beat in his chest as he realized-

_L was awake._

* * *

><p>AN: I tried to make it longer – yes, short chapter is still short – and though this seems like it will simply continue to be one short chapter after another, I will guarantee you that it _will_ get longer as we go. Those of you who have read _Remembrance_ know exactly how long I can make a single chapter, so just give me a little time and we'll get there. Anywho, I do apologize for both the length and the delay, but also hope that it turned out okay. Let me know what you think!


	3. Confession Or Deception

***CHAPTER DEDICATION! This chapter is dedicated to those who helped me to complete it – L, Poppy, DoitsuKitty, Ronnie-Mort, vioite, and MyCookiex. Thanks for the help, everyone!***

****Special thanks to Trying to Change Yesterday, hudgens77, Athena Sapphire Night, MissMeha611, Stardancer Cloud, AquaBurst, XxxxNaRu-ChAnxxXX, alba angelo, and Eva Vittorio for reviewing the last chapter. In addition, I thank anyone who Commented for the last chapter on DA. Your reviews mean the absolute world to me.****

Disclaimer: As always, I don't own _Death Note _or anything associated with it.

Warnings: Violence, language, L's real name, and yaoi (Light x L).

"Talking."

_Thinking._

* * *

><p>At an immediate loss of how to react to being observed by L, caught completely unawares and without having thought out what he would say to the detective when said detective awoke, Light could do little more than stare back at the dark-haired man. His thoughts swirled furiously, each one bringing a new question to the forefront of his tortured mind.<p>

_Did he witness my tears?_

_Why does he simply stare at me without responding?_

_Does he... Does he remember? Does he remember that I... that I... killed him?_

_It feels as though he's peering into my very soul..._

This last one was not a question, but more a reflection. L had neither moved nor said anything since Light had turned round and found the man's intense gaze upon his person. He was being studied, this much Light knew, and it was most uncomfortable. L was, perhaps, the only person Light could not fully read just by expression or body language – the man was always so stoic in his actions, so monotonous in voice - and it unnerved him to not know what it was that L was searching for in his deep scrutiny of Light.

Mere moments later, the man seemed to find whatever he had been looking for, and Light's very breath froze in his lungs as those pale lips parted to speak, the younger man waiting with well-concealed anticipation to hear a voice that had not graced his ears in just over five years.

"Light... what has happened? Did you have a nightmare?"

The words were spoken so softly that Light had to strain to hear them properly. Other than the barest hint of concern tinging his questions, L's voice sounded just as it always had, quiet and even, confident yet somewhat unsure, a deep baritone. It was an odd mixture that could only be described as "L."

Blinking out of his momentary stupor induced by L's voice, Light then shifted his focus from how the words were spoken onto what was actually said. _Did you have a nightmare? _So... it would seem that the detective had spotted the tears, but knew not the reason for them. What was more, the brunet mused, judging by L's initial reaction to seeing Light, the man appeared to not remember their twisted past, something that the younger man was eternally grateful for in that moment.

"No, Ryuzaki." The name sounded strange, almost foreign on his tongue. "I'm fine."

The man in question gave his companion a look that bordered on skeptical. "Are you sure you're well...?"

"Yes, I'm quite sure." To mask the lie, Light allowed his expression to fall into one of reassurance, complete with a disarming smile. "I'm sorry for waking you. Go back to bed, Ryuzaki."

The already-mussed hair atop the detective's head ruffled further as the man shook his head negatively. "No, Light. I've already slept all that I need to for now, and anything more would be counter-productive. Instead, you're welcome to sleep for a few more hours, but I shall be working while you do so." And with that, L rose into his typical precarious stance and turned to snag his laptop from its place upon his nightstand, holding the machinery in his usual two-fingered grip.

The brunet watched with feigned disinterest as L opened and booted up the computer, his honeyed eyes flickering to the upper-right corner of the screen. As the desktop came into view, he zeroed in on a tiny calendar placed in the aforementioned corner. The date displayed on this calendar read July 24th, 2004.

July 24th... the day after the handcuffs had been attached. This meant that he had approximately three full months before the destined date of L's death - more than enough time to devise a plan that will prevent said death from occurring, though it was probably best to start early.

Like right now, for instance.

"...Alright, Ryuzaki. I'll go back to sleep." No response came as Light feigned a resigned sigh, moving to lay his head against the pillows, then shifting so that his back was to the distracted detective - looking for all the world as though he really were going back to sleep, which is exactly what he _wanted_ the older man to think he was doing. In reality, sleep was the farthest thing from his mind as he mentally debated with himself.

First and foremost, he had to devise a way to deal with the most pressing matter to date-

_What to do about Kira._

Misa was memory-free, and Light himself... well, he had no idea what would happen if he were to touch a Death Note, but he would certainly avoid such an action for as long as he was able. As of right now, the only remaining Kira should be Higuchi, then, and he could be dealt with in a number of ways – none of which were feasible at this point in time.

Then, as it would seem, the real problem at the moment was Rem – she was the wild card, her actions unpredictable and erratic, though always for the best interest of Misa. Somehow... he needed to find a way to talk to the Shinigami, and the sooner the better. Perhaps he could negotiate with her, convince her to not only leave the human world, but to spare L's life as well.

It was a long-shot, but he had to try.

As for L... well, it was clear the man remembered nothing of the next three months, but how wise would it be to tell him the truth? That he was Kira, and he'd held the detective in his own two arms as the man lay dying? That he had killed thousands more even after L was dead and gone, only to eventually be outwitted by the man's successors? The vision of L that he'd seen as his own body reclined upon those stairs, suffering the agony of a well-deserved heart-attack? That would be an exceedingly awkward – not to mention damn near _impossible_- conversation to have.

And was such a conversation really _worth_ it? If he told L of what was to come... would the man even believe him? And if he did, what would he do to Light? Turn him over to the police, to either be sentenced to life in prison or to death? Or would he deal with Light himself? All of those unpleasantries could be avoided if he could simply take care of Kira on his own; however... that was very much impossible, handcuffed as he was to L at the moment.

And really... if he had to choose between watching L die while he himself continued to live, or dying a second time while L still lived... well, his choice was fairly clear.

L had to live, at any and all costs, and to do this... Light would have to tell him everything.

And he had to do it soon.

But not yet. He needed a bit of time to get reacquainted with this new reality, to situate himself with being a teenager for a second time.

But more than that, he needed time to fully devise a plan to deal with Rem, with or without L's help – if the man believed every word Light would eventually tell him, then chose to turn Light over to the police, he still had to have a way to protect L from Rem. He couldn't count on the detective to be able to defend himself against a biased Shinigami, and even less so because L was unable to see or communicate with Rem without being in possession of a Death Note.

The man would not be able to negotiate with her himself, and would have no warning before she added his name to the long list already in her Notebook.

L would be dead before he even knew what hit him.

And then, another thought struck Light, this one beyond terrifying – despite the fact that he retained his memories of the Death Note and of the events to come... would he still be able to see Rem? Kira was gone from his mind, after all, so would that inhibit him from seeing Shinigami without having first touched a Death Note? And if he also could not see her, could not communicate with her... then how was he to stop her from claiming L's life in three months?

What could he possibly do to protect L without that advantage?

Nothing. Not _one damn thing. _If he was unable to communicate with Rem – or was unable to find some way of doing so – then he was utterly useless. L would die anyway, and once more, Light would bear witness.

The mere thought of having to watch such a thing occur for the second time made him uncomfortable, and Light subconsciously shifted in an effort to expel the image from his mind. While doing so, he quite suddenly became aware that the soft, rhythmic sounds of tapping keys and the quiet jingle of the handcuff chain had long ago fallen silent, a pair of dark eyes now determinedly burning a hole into the back of his head.

"I know that you're awake, Light." For a second time, the man's voice was quiet - unusually so - and Light could once again detect that hint of concern within his monotonous tone.

Deciding it would be best not to lie, the younger man twisted around to face L, avoiding that onyx gaze. "...How did you know?"

The muted light from the laptop gave the detective's pallid skin a bluish, ethereal glow, causing the man to appear even more pale than he usually did. "Your breathing pattern did not match that of someone who was slumbering."

Of course. L _would_ be the one to notice such a minute detail about Light, even though he himself had not noticed that something was off about his own breathing. "Ah... you're very observant."

A tiny noise escaped L at this, and if Light didn't know any better, he would say it was a scoff. "Of course. I would be a very poor detective otherwise." Light silently agreed with that statement, but before he could formulate a response, the older man was already speaking again. "Why did you not go back to sleep, Light?"

"I..." Damn. What was he supposed to say to that? The truth was out of the question, to be sure, at least until he had some sort of backup plan in mind. But neither could he bring himself to lie to this man; not again, not after all the lies he'd told him the first time around. Perhaps, then, he could tell him a half-truth, something in-between... "You... You were right, earlier. I did have a nightmare, and it's kept me awake for thinking about it."

The older man nodded in understanding, his head quirked inquisitively to one side, a worn thumb moving up to lodge between his teeth. When he next spoke, his words were slightly muffled by the appendage. "I thought as much. Would you care to tell me about it?"

Oh, what to say, what to say... Well, being truthful about ANY part of their past (Or is it their future...?) would make him sound Kira-like, and if L's suspicions were going to rise no matter what Light told him, then why not give the man some semblance of the truth...? "In my dream, I... I saw you die. I... held you as you had a heart-attack, as... as Kira killed you."

"Oh?" Light barely caught the interest in L's tone, the subtle widening of the man's dark eyes, a phantom eyebrow slanting upward just so. "How very... morbid, Light. This certainly raises my suspicions of you being Kira by at least two percent. I'm sure you understand."

Though he knew it was coming – Hell, he'd _expected _it – Light still had to hide a cringe at this last declaration, masking it with a nod. "Yes. I understand."

"Good." The man shifted further, turning to face Light fully while still keeping himself balanced in that bizarre perch of his. "Now, tell me... how did holding me as I died make you feel?"

Turning this question over in his mind, Light quickly realized that what he'd been asked could be taken one of two ways. "Well... that depends, Ryuzaki. Are you asking how I felt in the dream when you died? Or how I feel in reality, having had a dream in which I held you as Kira murdered you?"

"Both, Light." Was it his imagination, or was L leaning closer...? "But tell me how you felt in the dream, first." And was that another indication of fervor he detected in that monotonous voice...?

"Well..." He could physically _feel_ his Kira percentage going up at this point. "There was a part of me- _The Kira part, which is now long-gone _-that was... elated by your death."

"I see." And up goes the percentage. "That is... very interesting. And in reality? How did you feel about this dream once you awoke?"

"I..." If he had been the Light of the past, the one who still harbored Kira, he would undoubtedly be babbling a lie about how horrible the dream had been – all for the sake of lowering the detective's suspicions. In this new reality, however, he already fully intended to eventually confess to his dual identity as Kira, and was therefore not all too concerned with finding ways to throw L off of his trail. Anything he could say to answer L's question right now would be of the utmost sincerity, whether L believed it or not. "I felt... numb."

"Numb." L repeated Light's response with a tone tinged in disbelief. "Why numb?"

For the first time since awakening in this new time period, Light's honeyed gaze rose to meet the ashen one of L dead-on, staring straight into the abyssal darkness of the man's eyes, silently urging him to hear the truth in his words. "Because it was the single most agonizing experience I have ever been through."

This seemed to confuse L, Light assumed, for the man returned his counterpart's stare with a blank one of his own, falling utterly silent. For many long minutes, the only sounds prevalent in the darkened room were of the quiet tinkling of the handcuff chain – L continued to chew on his thumb, even more so now – and the gentle hum of the laptop.

Eventually, it was L who spoke first, and of all the things Light briefly imagined it would be, what was actually said completely caught him off-guard. "...Go back to sleep, Light."

...What? That was it? _Really?_ No witty rebuttal, no further questions, no half-assed accusations? And who was _L_ to order Light to bed, as though the younger man were a child?

In his L-induced shock, the brunet could do little more than gape as the man in question simply turned – still retaining his precarious balance – to face the computer, immediately returning to the work he'd abandoned during his interrogation of Light. As the abruptness of his apparent dismissal of Light set in, so too did a slow-burning anger. "...No."

L made no acknowledgment that Light had said anything, and the younger man could feel his anger growing, though he diligently reigned most of it in. Some managed to seep out, unfortunately, when he none-too-gently placed his unmarked hand against the keyboard of the computer, preventing the detective from using it and effectively regaining said man's attention. "I don't think I could go back to sleep, Ryuzaki."

The expression upon L's face as the man once more regarded him quite plainly read "And what do you expect _me_ to do about that?" and Light took great pleasure at being the cause of such an unusual look from the perpetually emotionless man. "...Would you like to start working, then? The Task Force will not be arriving for some time- _I should_ hope _not, L, because the tiny clock on your infernal laptop displays it being 3:48 in the morning_ -but I'm certain they would not mind it if we started early."

_We?_ You _started working_ hours _ago, you bloody insomniac!_ "No, not yet." Though still miffed at L's indifference – and now the man's continued disregard – toward their previous conversation, Light forced his voice to sound sickly-sweet. "I think I'd like to take a shower, first. If it's not too much of an inconvenience, of course...?" Light had _always _had a shower before he started work in the past, and it was best to keep up that same structured schedule in this new time period.

With a non-committal shrug, L gave the chain connecting them a gentle tug, the usual quiet jingling filling the air at the action. "I have no qualms about this. Come, Light."

Light was not immediately responsive, hand still resting leisurely against the laptop, though L supposed the incredulous expression that briefly appeared on the younger man's face was far too easy to decipher - fake though the expression was. "Light... surely you do not expect to be allowed in the bathroom unsupervised? I cannot permit you to be free of the handcuffs for more than a moment, and even then, I must be there to observe you."

Of course, Light expected no such thing. In the past, L had only ever removed the handcuffs to allow the changing of a shirt or for the removal of a shirt altogether, as is the case with a shower. That was something Light would never be able to erase from his mind, as his first supervised shower had been one of the most awkward experiences of his life. "I... I understand." _Keep up the act... Keep up the act..._

"Then let us be on our way." Another tug of the chain, and Light felt his body move before his brain could comprehend the action, rising from the bed and following the detective obediently to the pristine dresser placed in the corner of the room. L gave his younger counterpart just enough time to gather a clean change of clothes, before unceremoniously dragging the tethered teen to the partially opened bathroom door. Said door gave an ominous creak as the detective proceeded to push it open the rest of the way, leading Light inside as though a master would to a dog on a leash.

With faux-fumbling fingers, Light gingerly set the clothes atop the back of the toilet, then began to fidget with the hem of his shirt as a delicate blush appeared on his face – a perfect air of naive innocence. As despicable as it was to pretend to be something he was not, it was crucial that L agreed to his next request - if the man were to see the marks upon his body, the ones left behind by those accursed bullet-holes... well, Light supposed they'd be having that conversation about Light being Kira much sooner than was expected. "Ryuzaki... would you please close your eyes while I disrobe?"

Completely certain he would be denied, Light was more than surprised when L silently shuffled to turn his back to Light, no questions asked. "When your shirt is off, slide it down the chain. I will unlock the cuff from my own wrist to remove the clothing, then recuff myself."

Well... _that_ had been unexpected. "Yes, of course. Thank you, Ryuzaki." Hurrying to undress, his shirt came off first, and was slid down the chain as instructed. True to his words, L did nothing more than unlock his own cuff- _Where did that key come from...?_ -and allowed the shirt to drop soundlessly to the floor, immediately reattaching the cuff to his thin wrist and stowing the key back to wherever it had come from. Returning his attention to the task at hand, the younger man hooked two fingers in the waistband of his sweatpants, preparing to discard those as well.

At least... that had been the plan, before his reflection in the mirror above the sink caught his eye.

The four rounded scars – the remnants of bullet-holes – were clearly visible at different locations across his chest and torso, tarnishing his once-flawless skin. He had fully expected to see those marks, and their presence did not perturb him in the slightest.

No, it was the fifth mark – centered directly over the location of his heart – that now captured his gaze. Etched onto the skin there was a series of tiny scars, which combined spelled out a two-word phrase in Kanji. A trembling hand – the marked one, as it happened – rose to touch at his chest, curious fingers tracing the indented scars as he silently mouthed out the words to himself, even as his reflection mirrored his every move.

_To remember._

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><p>AN: I am so very, very sorry for the long wait for this chapter. My Writer's Block kicked in at the exact inopportune moment, and I had zero motivation to write anything beyond the first few paragraphs. I only hope you all will forgive me, and I hope the length of this new chapter makes up for my absence. Thanks for reading, and I'll try to be more prompt with my updates in the future.


	4. Only Skin Deep

***CHAPTER DEDICATION! This chapter is dedicated to my best friends – Poppy, L, and Nani – as well as to everyone who has read and/or reviewed it thus far. A belated Merry Christmas, everyone!***

****Special thanks to Trying to Change Yesterday, Kakashifangirlnumber1000, Stardancer Cloud, wingfire24, Owlgrrl, AquaBurst, hudgens77, Brie-kun, MissMeha611, dotdotdanii, Viyola, lolzy33, XxxxNaRu-ChAnxxXX, and wishingbell for reviewing the last chapter. In addition, I thank anyone who Commented for the last chapter on DA. Your reviews mean the absolute world to me.****

Disclaimer: As always, I don't own _Death Note _or anything associated with it.

Warnings: Violence, language, L's real name, and yaoi (Light x L).

"Talking."

_Thinking._

* * *

><p>To remember... well, Light supposed, it made sense. He did, indeed, recall even the minutest details of his life before his death, and this mark would be a constant reminder of that – he would never be allowed to forget, that much was apparent. He would bear the burden of his memories for as long as he continued to exist.<p>

But... then again... he would never _want_ to forget, even if he had had to opportunity to do so. As painful as it was to continue to remember how he had acted as Kira, Light knew that those very same memories would be his saving grace in this life. Without them, he would not be able to save L, and history would repeat itself.

Without them... he would be susceptible to Kira's influence once again.

Visibly cringing at that unpleasant thought, Light allowed his fingers to briefly trace the mark again, observing as his reflected self did the same. As his fingers inched over the marred skin above his heart, his honeyed gaze flickered to rest on one of the gunshot scars that littered his chest and torso, their placement random and erratic – a sign that Matsuda had shot with an unsteady hand on that fateful day.

As his eyes trailed back to rest on the Kanji, Light was interrupted from his reverie by a quiet cough, a slight shift of L's weight accompanying the sound. "Light... I thought we came in here so that you may take a shower."

It was not a question, nor was it meant to be interpreted as such. Light could just detect a subtle hint of annoyance in the stoic detective's voice, and decided it would be best if he continued his musings at a later time. "Of course, Ryuzaki. My apologies."

Hurriedly, the younger man continued to undress, pulling at the drawstring on his sweatpants. Once they were pooled around his ankles, he hooked a finger in the waistband of his boxers, shoving the final article of clothing down his hips. These joined the sweats at his feet, and Light payed them no mind as he stepped out of the clothing and into the shower. His hand snagged the edge of the curtain to shimmy the protective plastic closed behind him, warm water cascading from the shower head as his other hand found the tap moments later.

From experience, Light knew he wouldn't have much time – after a few minutes, L would get fidgety. At ten minutes, L would get vocal, either by purposely trying to annoy Light to the point that the younger man would concede defeat and leave the shower, or by insisting that "Kira isn't going to catch himself, so could we please get back to work?"

And God forbid Light took fifteen minutes or longer. The consequences were never pretty.

After hurriedly soaping his skin – wary of the new marks decorating his torso, chest, and hand – he barreled through his shampoo and conditioning rituals, rinsing everything off in one go. With barely any time to spare before L began to goad him in one way or another, the water was shut off and the curtain pulled back.

Curiously, L appeared to be standing in the same spot Light had left him, still with his hunched back to the shower. The man looked to be in deep thought, nibbling on a thumb in silent contemplation. The younger man took this opportunity to slip his clean boxers and pristine pair of trousers on, finishing by fastening his belt about his hips.

Now, for the hard part.

Light had chosen a sweater rather than a dress shirt, intending for the long sleeves to conceal the scars on his hand. As the handcuff was around his left wrist instead of his right one, he figured it shouldn't be too difficult to keep the marks hidden from prying eyes - as long as no one decided to examine his right hand too closely, of course.

So _what_ he was going to wear had been an exceedingly easy choice; _how_ he was going to get it on without L glimpsing the scars... that was a different matter entirely. The modestly act couldn't work forever – he was surprised it even worked the first time – and L would surely get suspicious if Light continued to ask the man to turn his back.

A quick glance at the mirror gave him his answer. When Matusda shot him that day in the warehouse, he was too far away for the bullets to go all the way through. His hand was an exception because the extremity was thinner, less muscle to prevent the bullet from piercing both sides of the appendage. But the ones across his upper body... the bullets had to have become lodged in organs or thick muscle, for as Light craned his neck to examine his back in the mirror, not a single scar from a bullet hole could be seen.

Perfect. It wouldn't seem too terribly suspicious if were to always keep his own back turned as he dressed – modest, but not overly modest. He merely had to ensure that it was always turned in such a way that L could never use the mirror to glimpse his front, and that should be simple enough to accomplish. The only problem would then be the marks on his hand, but if he were cautious in his actions and remembered to always use his left hand when performing simple tasks, then even that should be something he wouldn't have to fret over.

The details now worked out in his mind, Light decided it was time to rouse his companion from the man's own thoughts. "Ryuzaki, I'm ready to finish dressing."

This did, indeed, catch the older man's attention- "Yes, alright." -and he shuffled around to face Light just as the younger man finished shifting his own position, back now toward L. This didn't perturb the older detective in the slightest as the man simply uncuffed his own hand, slid the appropriate part of the sweater onto it, and snapped the cuff back to his gaunt wrist.

Light could hear all of this happening behind him and breathed a silent sigh of relief that everything had gone as planned. Carefully, he lowered his hand until the sweater could slide down the chain with the help of gravity, and caught the edge once it was within reach, hurriedly pulling the garment over his head and shoving his arms into the sleeves. Now fully dressed, Light stooped to gather his discarded clothing from earlier, dropped them into the hamper, and swiveled on his heel to flash L a smile. "Alright. Let's get to work."

The man gave an approving nod and turned to the door, proceeding to lead Light out of the bathroom and back to the bed. They only paused there long enough for the older detective to retrieve his laptop before they were on the move again, this time leaving the suite entirely. The hallway outside their room was darkened at this time of night, but both of them had walked this familiar path so many times that no illumination was needed. They shortly paused before the silver elevator doors – gleaming even in the reduced light – and Light watched apathetically as L produced a key as if from nowhere, methodically fitting it into the appropriate hole situated below a glowing control panel.

Having seen this routine more times than he could remember, Light wasn't all too impressed. He averted his eyes as L began to enter the alphanumerical passcode on the control panel – he had once been told that the code changed every six hours; an additional precaution – and only returned his gaze to the elevator when the usual ding echoed in the deserted hallway, the doors sliding open to afford them entrance.

The key was retrieved as the duo shuffled into the elevator, where the same routine that had just been performed was executed once again. The passcode was different, but it also changed every six hours, and after a good look at the key Light was fairly certain it was the same one used to open the handcuffs. A mechanical beep was heard, signaling everything had been done correctly, and the doors glided shut as the elevator began its descent.

Not a word was spoken between them for the duration of the ride, though Light itched to break the silence. He knew not what to say, however, and so his lips remained firmly sealed as the elevator slowed to a stop on the investigation floor.

The doors opened for a second time, and L lead them into the dimly lit room, stopping only when they were situated at their shared workstation. It wasn't until his feet met with the cold tile of the investigation room floor that Light realized he was bare-footed, socks and shoes forgotten. He payed this detail little mind, though, as he settled into his chair, reaching to boot up his computer seconds later.

Once his desktop appeared on the screen, he immediately set to work - scrolling through lists of suspects and victims in an attempt to make a connection, examining graphs of inconsequential evidence, noting anything out of the ordinary. He had never noticed the first time around, but such work was actually incredibly boring, even more so when he took into account that he was being made to search for a criminal that could not be found by him if only because he _was_ said criminal.

It was almost comical, in the sense that Kira was not only trying - in vain - to catch himself, but that he _knew_ that he was trying catch himself.

Despite the tediousness of it, Light still buried himself in work, so as to at last look busy. He continued this way until a noise at the back of the room drew his attention, and after throwing a glance toward the clock at the corner of his computer screen- _7 o'clock already?_ -he surmised that the Task Force was just arriving to work. Sure enough, voices filtered into the room as the main elevator doors slid open, revealing the familiar faces of the five men.

Mogi was first to leave the elevator, subdued as always, and the man spared no time before buckling down to work. Next were Aizawa and Ide, the two men debating a random point even after they were both already sat at their individual stations. Last to leave were Matsuda and Soichiro – the two most prominent members of the Task Force, in Light's honest opinion. Matsuda was carrying a take-out bag and a drink-holder containing several cups of coffee, and from what Light could surmise, the young detective was despairing over his non-existent love-life while Soichiro tried to bemusedly (read: agitatedly) console him.

As their conversation lulled, Soichiro's eyes wandered over the room, eventually landing on Light. Light stared right back, their eyes locking, and he was out of his chair before he even knew to give his feet the order. There was a yelp of surprise from somewhere behind him - _It must be L._ -but he didn't stop, he _couldn't _stop.

It had been a definite blow to his mental shields to see L alive again for the first time, but to see his father also alive... it was too much. His walls had shattered, if only for this moment, and he had to touch this man just once to make sure that he was really there (_This is real, this is real..._).

Upon reaching his father, he threw his arms about the shocked man- "Light, what-?" -and buried his face in said man's jacket, the tears he wasn't aware that he'd been crying soaking into the fabric. He could feel the confusion radiating off of his father in waves - and the multitude of stares directed at him by the rest of the Task Force - but Soichiro arms came up around him to embrace him back nonetheless, and Light was eternally grateful for that.

Somewhere in his mind, he knew this display had to be both uncharacteristic and suspicious, but he couldn't force himself to care. He could play this off nonchalantly as homesickness or something similar when he broke the hold, but for now, he was happy to just be held like this – reminiscent of how his parents had once held him as a child when he had been sick, or after he had suffered a nightmare.

"How touching. If you don't knock it off, my teeth'll start rotting from all this mushy stuff."

The deep, gravelly voice cut straight through his quiet reminiscence, causing the hairs at the back of his neck to stand on end and his breath to catch in his throat. His eyes snapped open, his pupils dilating more in disbelief than in fear. Slowly, to prevent anymore unwanted negative attention to be brought to his person, Light rose his head just enough to peer over his father's shoulder.

There, deep in the shadows of a far corner, a large pair of yellowed eyes stared back at him, situated above a perpetually grinning mouth that was filled to the brim with razor-sharp teeth.

With a jolt, Light broke the embrace and took an unsteady step back from his father, his gaze still fixated on the being in the shadows. He could distantly hear several voices trying to capture his attention, from the concerned tone of his father to the quizzical tone of L, and even to a cry of alarm from a third person. He realized too late that this third person was trying to warm him as his bare foot came down into a puddle of something that had spilled onto the tile, and the appendage slid out from under him.

It felt as though he was falling in slow-motion - he had time to see and hear far more than should have been possible. L's swivel chair had been overturned, either by Light's mad dash to reach his father or by the detective scrambling to catch him before his imminent impact with the hard floor; the liquid he had slipped on was, in fact, the remnants of one of the cups of coffee Matsuda had brought in, the man in question watching his descent with horror plastered across his face while the culprit coffee cup continued to lazily drip its murky contents onto the tile below; his father's own face frozen in a mask of absolute dread as the floor rose to meet his son's head, the sickening crack echoing throughout the investigation room.

The most prominent thing he noticed, however, was that achingly familiar face in the corner. Not once did those eyes leave him, not once did that mouth cease its grinning, and even as his world exploded into pain before fading into black, Light could swear a familiar cackle filled the room, unheard by everyone but himself.

* * *

><p>AN: That was an ORDEAL. I'm sorry that it completely sucked – I wrote, like, 99% of this within the span of a single day (on the 23rd) – and I'm sorry that it's so short, and I'm sorry that I took so long to write this short and sucky chapter. Please, please forgive me. Even if you don't, I'm forever grateful to you all for being so wonderfully patient. I don't know how often I'll be able – or willing – to update anymore, but I just want all of you to know that I WILL finish this story.

Thank you all for reading, and a belated Merry Christmas to everyone!


	5. Coming Apart At The Seams

***This chapter is dedicated to **Trying to Change Yesterday**, my unofficial beta-reader. I highly recommend her own _Death Note_ fanfiction - _"Saving Light_," rated T and in-progress - to anyone who cares to read it.***

****Special thanks to Trying to Change Yesterday, wingfire24, dotdotdanii, lolzy33, Faye317, Viyola, XxxxNaRu-ChAnxxXX, Stardancer Cloud, hudgens77, ChairoftheBored, ScarletCrypt, and nywd for reviewing the last chapter. In addition, I thank anyone who Commented for the last chapter on DA. Your reviews mean the absolute world to me.****

Disclaimer: As always, I don't own _Death Note _or anything associated with it.

Warnings: Violence, language, L's real name, and yaoi (Light x L).

"Talking."

_Thinking._

* * *

><p>Darkness pervaded Light's vision the moment he realized he could see, but this didn't seem to bother him all that much. The fact that couldn't feel his body, however... that was a different matter entirely. It almost felt as though he was floating in this darkness, weightless, detached from his physical self as he listlessly drifted.<p>

He had no sense of time here, and so was unaware for how long he remained in this space. It was certainly some time later, however, that a voice permeated the all-encompassing blackness, a distinctly feminine voice, ethereal and not of this world. Though he still could not feel his body, the voice caused him physical pain to hear, as though it were resonating through his very being and pinching his every nerve ending. It echoed in his skull, quiet and loud and excruciating all at once.

_Beware, Light Yagami. Things are not as they appear._

He had no time whatsoever to ponder just what that statement had meant, for in the next instant, a blinding whiteness invaded his vision and the voice was gone. Quite suddenly, he found himself staring up at a white ceiling, noticing immediately that his body was parallel to the ground yet supported above it – he was layed out on a bed, where he certainly wasn't before. The strange dream/vision/premonition he'd just had all but forgotten mere moments after his waking, he focused instead on recalling what had happened before his fall – how he had slipped, the horrified voices and expressions of the Task Force members, the unpleasantness of Ryuk's appearance...

_Ryuk._ He had not quite realized at the time, but was able to see Ryuk. _Without_ the aide of a Death Note.

What did this mean, exactly? Would he be able to touch one with having to worry at whether or not Kira would take over once again? _No._ No, best not to dwell on that. Nothing good could come from such a train of thought.

But this did mean something significant, he knew, for if he could see Ryuk... perhaps he could see Rem as well. Rem was who he needed to converse with in order to save L, and now he was one step closer to his goal. It didn't even occur to him to worry that Rem would not agree, could not be persuaded to see reason – those bridges would be crossed once he reached them. For now, the most pressing matter was how to contact her.

One course of action would be to allow history to play out as it had in the past, up until the first confrontation between the Task Force and Rem – the point in time where he would have originally received his lost memories in L's helicopter. He could go from there, assuming he could indeed see Rem, and converse with her in an effort to save L. It was a farfetched method – not to mention dangerous and uncertain and for all Light could predict, by then it might be too late – but it would be an adequate backup plan.

Much more effective would be to ask Ryuk himself to retrieve Rem and bring her before them, a forced meeting that had not occurred in the past. It was not feasible at this precise moment because Light had no way to contact Ryuk without arousing L's suspicions, but if he confessed to being Kira sooner rather than later, it would then be the best shot he had to contact Rem.

The only fault with the second option was that even with Light's confession and the proof his scars provided, the older detective would still be unable to see Ryuk. It was weeks before they were to first sight a Death Note following the original time-line, and that particular notebook would only allow them to see Rem. By then, having told L everything will have useless, and the man would still be in danger.

And Ryuk would certainly not care about unearthing Light's buried notebook from its resting place in the forest – there would be no fun in that.

So, unless he discovered a third option for the problem of L being unable to see Ryuk, he would have to keep his mouth firmly closed on the subject of his past as Kira, and hold his tongue when around Ryuk.

"What must you be thinking of so deeply to give the ceiling such a trenchant look, Light?"

He was jolted from his contemplation by the voice, the words coming not in a gravelly rasp as he had feared. Nor were they an excruciating echo within his mind- _Beware, Light Yagami. Things are not as they appear. _-and now that he recalled said voice, he would have to analyze what those words could possibly mean as soon as he was able.

For now, he needed to focus on this third voice, the words having been spoken in a flat monotone, murmured barely feet away from him and above a bit, coming from only one possible source.

A gentle tilt of his head to the left and his gaze fell upon L, the man perched on a chair beside the bed, one bitten thumb lodged between his teeth as those onyx orbs studied his prone figure. It was then that Light realized his exact situation – he had fallen unconscious when his head struck the tiled floor of the investigation room- _That would be the cause of my throbbing headache, though I didn't even feel it until now. -_and as such, he should still be there. Where, then, was he, and how had he gotten here?

A quick glance about the room he was now situated in told him little – his new surroundings were unremarkable, the few pieces of furniture bland, the sheets of his temporary bed starchy and reminiscent of those found in a hospital room, most everything a too-bright white. He surmised that this had to most likely be a room on the infirmary floor of the building.

The "where he was" now almost assuredly was solved, but that still left how he had been transported here. L could answer that, he was sure, but he had to approach this ensuing conversation carefully.

Considering the situation – and how he had acted before his accident – Light decided he could use his injury to his advantage. Though he hated to lie to L- _Again, _his mind supplied -it was neither the time to raise the detective's suspicions nor to confess his guilt entirely.

Blinking uncomprehendingly at his captor, he forced confusion into his voice when he spoke. "...Ryuzaki? Wh-What happened? Where are we? And why does my head hurt so much?"

The thumb fell away from pallid lips, the now-freed hand lowering to rest on a raised knee. Those dark eyes flickered briefly with some undefinable emotion, the man's pitch-black hair ruffling just slightly as the head it was attached to tilted almost imperceptibly to the left – a sign of either curiosity or concern, though perhaps both. "Do you not remember what happened, Light?"

Hook, line, and sinker.

"N-No. The last thing I can recall is... working with you, Ryuzaki. The rest is just a dark blur." Large, honey-hued eyes rose to meet the darker ones trained on his person, a perfectly constructed mask of incomprehension in place. "Why can't I remember?"

The elder detective shifted in his perched position, as though unsure of what exactly to say. "You are not missing much by being unable to remember, Light. We paused work when the Task Force arrived, as you began to act somewhat irrational at the appearance of your father. This led to you accidentally slipping in a beverage that had been spilled by Matsuda, the resulting fall ending with your head colliding with the floor – the reason for the pain you are in and quite likely why you cannot remember what had happened before you were injured – as well as your loss of consciousness."

Light gave the frazzled detective an intentionally blank stare as he took a few moments to himself, processing what he had just been told. _Irrational_, huh? Oh, this should be good. But first... "I was unconscious?"

L shifted slightly in place once more before answering. "Yes, but you were only unconscious for approximately half an hour. Your father was the one to carry you up to the medical floor, where your head was immediately examined by Watari. The injury was determined to be superficial, a mere cut and accompanying bump that were promptly disinfected and dressed in sterile linen. I suspect no permanent damage to your skull or brain, and your lucidity suggests that you do not have a concussion. If you would like, I could arrange for a CT Scan and an X-ray, in order to be absolutely certain that all is well."

Light considered this momentarily, assessing how he truly felt (and quietly marveling how much L had just spoken at one time – it had to be some sort of record.). The back of his head had been steadily throbbing with the pain of his injury, that much was true – the length of linen wrapped around his cranium scraped against the wound every time he moved, and was certainly not helping things – but he felt that it was nothing so extreme as to warrant a CT Scan or an X-ray. "No, Ryuzaki. A few pain-killers will suffice, and I'll be fine."

A murmured "Very well" was all he received, and the room plunged into silence. With L apparently run out of things to say, Light seized on this opportunity to question the detective on the "irrational" behavior.

"...Ryuzaki?" It was rather sickening to Light himself just how innocent and lost he could make himself sound in that instant, but he wanted very much to know what L's definition of his "irrationality" would be. "When you said I had been acting irrationally earlier, what... what did you mean? Did I do something strange?"

Expression betraying nothing, L's response was immediate. "It was nothing, Light. A culmination of your stress, I imagine, but certainly nothing to fret over."

Interesting. Light knew that L hadn't actually lied just now, but concealing the truth was as good as a lie in some instances. For what purpose L would need to hide such a thing, Light did not know, but he could only assume it had something to do with his Kira percentages. "Well... if you say it's not important, then I won't worry about it. And if it was worth remembering, then I'll recall it eventually."

This seemed to be the exact right thing to say, for L responded with a nod of understanding – really, it was a bob of the head, but Light supposed it could be called a nod – before motioning to something in the far corner of the room.

Light's gaze followed the action with some measure of curiosity, and the honeyed orbs widened at the sight of the figure in the corner. Watari, a tired smile on his face, was seated in a chair– _When had he gotten there...?_ -but that was not the cause of his surprise. No, it was the figure floating two or three feet _above_ Watari (and floating _upside-down_, as it were) that really caught his attention. The Shinigami merely gave him a cheeky wave, as though nothing about his presence in this room was odd. "How's it hangin', Light-o?"

Brilliant. What had started out as a good thing was already becoming a nuisance – yes, it was magnificent that he could see Ryuk without the aid of a Death Note, but in turn, this also meant that he could _hear_ Ryuk as well. This was only made worse by his inability to respond verbally to the Shinigami, and so he had no choice but remain silent while Ryuk could (and most likely _would_) continue to say and do as he so pleased.

And as predicted, Ryuk continued to chatter. "Got any apples? I haven't had one in ages!"

Light almost snorted. _Sure, Ryuk. Like I'd _really_ give you an apple in front of L._

When no answer was forthcoming from the brunet, Ryuk chuckled, the sound grating against Light's nerves to the point where he had to resist the urge to cover his ears. "Is that a no?"

_No shit, Sherlock. _

"You're so boring."

_And you're annoying._

"You were much more fun before you died."

_Says you. _

A heartbeat later, the weight of Ryuk's words came crashing down on him and he froze. _You were much more fun before you died... _What did he mean by that? Did Ryuk somehow know that Light had been brought back from the dead, sent back in time, and given a second chance at life? He WAS a being from another realm, so it could be possible...

Ryuk must have seen something in Light's expression that signaled what was on the man's mind, for in the next instant he cackled loudly, righted himself in mid-air, and disappeared through the far wall with naught but a flap of the wings. The laughter echoed through the room for a few seconds more, unheard by all but Light, before silence fell once again.

This... This was unexpected. _Well_, he mentally chastised himself. _None_ _of this is_ expected, _per se,_ _but this was even _more_ unprecedented_. _Are there others who still have their memories? Is there a way I can use this to my advantage? _He immersed himself in his thoughts, completely unaware of the odd look directed at him by L. The detective had seen the way Light reacted when he'd motioned for Watari to retrieve the pills that Light had asked for – upon glancing at the corner of the room, the younger man's face had flickered with a strange expression, one that was reminiscent of his earlier actions downstairs, bewildered with an edge of fear – and L's eyes narrowed as he contemplated what this could mean.

"Sir?" The voice came from just beside L, a weathered voice tired with age, and the detective in question shifted his gaze to Watari, noticing as Light's own eyes did the same. "I have what you requested."

Removing his clenched fingers from his jean-clad knees, L took the proffered items from Watari with a quiet murmur of thanks. Two pills pinched between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand, the glass of water requiring him to use a firmer grip with his right, he then passed them on to Light, who accepted them with a grateful smile. He popped the pills into his mouth and washed them down with a few gulps of water, handing the half-empty glass back to Watari himself. The man bowed politely and strolled from the room, leaving Light and L very much alone.

The younger man could feel L's gaze burning into the side of his head, much as it had when he'd awoken, and once more he felt as though he were being studied. Again, it made him acutely uncomfortable, and he sought to either distract L from his intense scrutiny or stop the man's blatant staring altogether. "If I've been cleared of serious injury, can we now go back to work?"

"No." The response is quick, automatic, as though he had been waiting to answer this specific question. "I've sent the rest of the Task Force home for the day, with the exception of your father. He is waiting in the hall to see you before he also leaves. And Matsuda sends his sincerest apologies for his clumsiness."

With a quiet hum of acknowledgment, the brunet rose onto his elbows in preparation to leave the bed. His endeavor was thwarted, however, as a pale hand pressed against the center of his chest, exerting just enough pressure to stop his ascent. A curious glance to L proved that the detective's attention was not on Light for once, but on the handcuff chain instead, fiddling with one of the cuffs. It was then that Light took notice that both of L's wrists were bare of punishing metal, the handcuff that was supposed to be around the man's right hand now locked around one of the steel poles that made up the bland headboard of the bed. After a moment, the cuff came undone and the key – that, yet again, had appeared from seemingly nowhere – was stowed away from whence it came.

Returning the manacle to its proper place around his wrist, L then removed his had in allowance for Light to leave the bed. He did so gingerly, trying not to jostle his head too much, and was immensely proud that he didn't even waver as he stood. With the barest of tugs on the chain connecting them, the usual quiet tinkling accompanied them as L led the way from the room.

Almost immediately upon entering the hallway, Light was assaulted by two strong, warm arms that clung around his person, and he allowed himself to lean into the embrace with a quiet sigh. Soichiro was fairly sobbing on his shoulder, sputtering apologies and other nonsensical ramblings as the tears dripped onto the fabric of his shirt, but Light paid none of this any mind as he simply focused on the feeling of being held by his father. Such a strange sensation – for he never allowed such contact in the life he once had – but so right at the same time. His eyes fluttered closed as he basked in it, soaking up what he could while he had the chance.

If everything else in this new life were to descend into chaos before his very eyes, he wanted this one fleeting instant – the feeling of being held by someone who still wanted him around, someone who loved him unconditionally - to be etched permanently into his memory forever.

* * *

><p>Shortly after Light assured his hysterical father that he was, indeed, alright, the man had gone home to the rest of their family, while he and L had returned to their shared rooms. Sleeping that night was an awkward affair on Light's part (and only on Light's part, because he could never be entirely sure that L slept at <em>all<em>). He had slept beside the detective many, many times before, but it somehow still felt new to him; and it took him quite a while to finally fall into an uneasy sleep, the quiet tapping of keys and the muted glow of a monitor lulling him into unconsciousness.

That was when he heard the voice for a second time.

It was just as beautiful, just as agonizing the second time around, and it whispered in his ear the same words as before.

_Beware, Light Yagami. Things are not as they appear._

The words were pure agony to hear, and they echoed all around him in that empty space as the voice murmured them over again, pervading every single pore of his body until he could no longer stand it, until he was crying out against the pain.

He awoke with a start some time in the night, half-expecting to hear himself screaming. The room was quiet, though, and dark as well. L must actually be asleep, he mused, and stretched out his untethered hand to fumble at the lamp resting on his nightstand, eventually managing to flick it on. When he turned to regard the slumbering figure of L, his breath caught in his throat and he had to choke back a scream for the second time in as many minutes.

Hovering above L was Ryuk, upside-down once more, his grinning visage mere inches from Light's own startled face. "Yo."

Light said nothing in response – the room was bugged and constantly surveyed by video-cameras, so conversing with the Shinigami was made quite impossible – but Ryuk seemed to expect this, as he began to wander around the room aimlessly (still upside-down), going on about anything and everything.

Oh, Light could feel a migraine coming on, and it wasn't being caused by his injury.

He expected Ryuk to get bored, to leave and find something more entertaining.

But he didn't.

Long after L had awoken ("Light, if you were going to wake up early, you should have woken me as well. We could have already been working by now.") and the duo had each taken a separate shower (_Don't let him see the marks..._), Ryuk was still there, though he had thankfully stayed out of the bathroom. When they had gone downstairs to meet the rest of the Task Force (Matsuda was wailing about his mistake from yesterday- "I'm sorry, Light! I didn't mean to!" -and as much as he liked Matsuda and continued to assure him that everything was fine, Light could still feel his migraine worsening), Ryuk had followed.

(No one mentioned how Light had acted yesterday before the accident, and he assumed that they had all been instructed to keep quiet about it.)

All throughout work, Ryuk proved to be a constant irritant, but not nearly as annoying as the unexpected visit from Misa (that hadn't lasted long, but it was long enough for Light to gauge her actions and decide that she also remembered nothing – she wasn't _that_ good of an actress, after all).

Even at the end of the day, as the Task Force was leaving and the handcuffed genii were turning in for bed, _Ryuk was still there._

And again that night, Light's dreams were plagued with that agonizing voice, always whispering the same thing in his ear.

It quickly became a sort-of routine that lasted first one week, then two and on into three. During the day, Ryuk would find new ways to annoy him (though the few times that he'd played little tricks on Matsuda, like making objects on the man's desk disappear and randomly reappear in the strangest of places, were somewhat amusing). His nights, in retrospect, were not much better, as his dreams were continually visited by the woman's voice, each and every evening. He was losing sleep; not wanting to so much as close his eyes when he'd crawled into bed, waking insanely early in the morning, and even forgoing sleep altogether (though he could often fool L into believing he was asleep, he could never seem to fool Ryuk, and the Shinigami purposely annoyed him all the more at night) – and all just to avoid the pain those dreams brought him. He had no idea what she was warning him against, and could never seem to concentrate long enough to even consider it.

He couldn't even focus long enough to work on his plan to save L, and that was worrisome in and of itself.

His head had completely healed by the end of the second week, though the headache that never seemed to stop was still present even now in the third week. He just couldn't function correctly anymore - his concentration was slipping, his work was suffering, and _L was noticing._

As with his faked sleeping habits, L never said anything to Light's decreasing work ethic, though he would often catch the detective staring at him contemplatively. It unnerved Light almost as much as Ryuk's constant presence and the voice's vague warning.

It was all overwhelming him, and on one particular day - in the middle of the third week since Light's reincarnation - things finally came to a head.

It was as everyone was preparing to leave for lunch that it happened. Light made no indication that he wanted to leave his chair, his head resting in the cradle of his hands, and L was in no hurry to halt his work, either. The other members of the Task Force left one-by-one, not seeing anything peculiar with the actions of the two young detectives, and they were soon left alone in the investigation room.

Neither of them spoke to the other, and if it weren't for Ryuk's inane chatter, the room would be totally silent save for the muted clicking of keys on L's part. Light's head still hadn't removed itself from his hands.

"Hey! Hey, Light!" Ryuk's too-cheerful voice floated to him from above, and aside from a twitch of his shoulders, there was nothing to say that he'd heard. "I'm bored! Pay attention to me for once!"

Oh, God... how much longer was this going to continue? He was at the end of his rope; too much more of this, and he was going to crack.

"All you do is work! You're no fun anymore!"

The sort-of insult bothered him not in the least, though he did disagree. The bit about him being no fun was true enough at the moment, but to say that all he did was work? No, that was completely inaccurate. He was quite good at making himself look busy when he really wasn't, but even that was becoming a chore.

"You were better off as Kira!"

...Now THAT was crossing the line.

"That's not true! Take that back!"

As true silence fell upon the room – Ryuk was finally,_ finally _silent for once – he realized that he was on his feet and shouting at seemingly thin air, his hands clenched into fists and trembling from a mixture of rage and exhaustion. The handcuff chain jingled merrily with his shaking, and it distantly occurred to Light that L had witnessed everything.

Oh, Hell.

He couldn't look. He just _couldn't_.

...But he _had_ to.

Not knowing what to expect, he slowly trailed his gaze over to rest on the detective beside him, and in doing so, the full gravity of his situation hit him like a ton of bricks.

For a few heart-breaking moments, Light could do little more than stare at L in utter horror, as though he couldn't believe that he had just done such a thing. The man held his gaze easily, unwavering, and Light could see the swirl of conflicted emotions in their depths. His posture was rigid, his hands digging into his jean-clad knees, and even as Light slumped back into his chair their eyes never broke contact.

Light's mouth moved soundlessly, the words to defend his actions lost before they could be spoken, and somewhere behind him he could he Ryuk's delighted cackle at this new development.

It was L who spoke first, his voice noticeably tense but still managing to keep it's usual monotone, his fingers tightening in the fabric of his faded jeans.

"_Kira._"

One word. All it took was one word for Light's world to come crashing down. That wasn't an accusation L had just blurted out – it was an _assertion_.

L _knew._

And Light snapped.

Everything, _everything_ rushed back to him all at once – the dreams, Ryuk, the loss of sleep and concentration, those all-knowing eyes and that one-word damnation – and he was positively drowning. He could feel himself breaking, shattering where he sat under the severity of L's intense, onyx gaze, those eyes boring into him as though daring him to deny what was now known to be true.

And that's exactly what Light tried to do. The words were bubbling at the back of his throat– _Deny it... Deny it... It's still too soon for him to know..._ -and his mouth opened to speak them, to lie again, when his brain caught up to him. _Too much. _Everything was _too much._ It was all_ too much and he couldn't sleep and he couldn't concentrate and his headache never stops and he couldn't even _think_ straight and he just wanted this to _end_- _

"You're right." L's eyes widened ever so slightly down at the broken boy before him, Light staring back at him with a tortured expression encompassing his young face, and the words wouldn't stop _coming, _and please,make this _stop,_ and oh _God_,what in the _world _was he _doing? _

"I am Kira."

* * *

><p>AN: I fail. So much. And I'm sorry for that. So very sorry. There's too much going on in my life, and maybe in a month or two – when the semester ends – I'll have more time. Until then... I'm sorry, but updates will be scarce.


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